


Baker Street Valentine's

by closetsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Johnlock Gift Exchange, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetsherlockian/pseuds/closetsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the johnlockchallenges valentine's gift exchange for yeahbutamiaprettylady on Tumblr with the prompt "Sherlock and John, valentine's date." A nice fluffy V-day fic and my first real attempt at writing pure fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baker Street Valentine's

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, coniectanea!

Another year, another Valentine’s day, another date. John Watson was really getting sick of this day.

_What_ _’_ _s so special about February 14, anyway? Just another excuse for stores to jack up the price of chocolates and roses. But God help any man that didn't make a fuss on Valentine_ _’_ _s._

In his younger days he’d refer to it as a guaranteed cock block. But he was far more mature than that. Mostly.

This year, John had chosen to bring his newest girlfriend to Le Relais De Venise L’Entrecote. Close to home and it sounded expensive. Enough to make Jennifer (it was Jennifer, wasn’t it?) happy.

 _“_ _God, I_ _’_ _m the worst boyfriend on the planet_ John thought to himself while waiting for his date. She was late, as usual. Normally it wouldn't bother him but considering he was  surrounded by happy couples giving him a sympathetic look he was beginning to break a sweat.

His anxiety soon lifted when he saw his latest date walk towards the table. She was gorgeous. Black wavy hair, milky white skin and legs that went on forever. He couldn’t help but be reminded of someone else when he looked into those icy blue eyes.

 _Get it together, Watson. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to get lucky tonight or not?_ the doctor mentally cursed to himself. This train of thought was becoming much more common than he cared to admit.

John ignored the buzz in his pocket as he smiled at Jennifer.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, John. The traffic was just awful. I hope you haven’t been here long?” she said sweetly before placing a kiss on John’s cheek.

John looked at his watch. 7:27pm. So much for a 7 o’clock start. “Oh, not at all, sweetheart. I thought I’d wait for you to choose the champagne” he replied. 

Jennifer gracefully sat down opposite John. Her short, skin tight dress left nothing to the imagination,but the sight did nothing to his pulse like a certain detective in a silk blue dressing gown. John shook his head in a vain attempt to shake the intruding thoughts from his mind. It didn’t work.

An impossibly snotty waiter with a pretentious French accent joined the pair and asked them if they’d like to see the wine list. But it was by no means necessary.

“We’ll have a bottle of the Moët, thanks” Jennifer said with a smile. “After all, it is a special occasion. John here is a doctor so it’s not like he can’t afford the finer things in life.”

John cringed the second she ordered but did his best to hide it with a laugh.

_Of course she_ _’_ _d pick the most expensive wine they could get. Dating was getting more bloody expensive every year._

“ _Sir_ , would you like to order dinner for yourself and the lovely lady?” the waiter asked. “We have a special Valentine’s set menu if you’re interested. Caviar entrée, our finest Angus steak for main and a shared chocolate fondue for dessert.”

“We’ll have that, thanks. If that’s alright with you, John?” Jennifer responded quickly.

John gave her a tight lipped smile. “Whatever you want, Jennifer. I just want tonight to be special for you.”

She smiled at the doctor. “Is there…anything else you have?”

 _Shit. The roses._ John winced.

“I have something very special for you, Jennifer. But I want it to wait until after dinner. Much nicer than anything you expect” he lied smoothly. _How was he going to get out of this one?_

She hid a smug smile behind her hand. There was a reason she always dated doctors. “So how’s that bizarre flatmate of yours? Honestly I don’t know how you put up with him.”

John’s blood began to boil. He couldn’t stand it when people mocked Sherlock, especially to his face. How he hadn’t already decked Anderson and even Sally Donovan was a testament to his self-restraint.

“Sherlock really isn’t as bad as everyone thinks. Never a dull moment with him!” he laughed. “So how’s…your…job?” he asked awkwardly. Anything to change the subject. Besides, she loved talking about herself.

Jennifer began prattling on about whatever menial and boring things she’d done since they last met. Something about modelling, her various girlfriends getting engaged and her dreadful boss.

_God she_ _’_ _s boring. I wonder what Sherlock_ _’_ _s up to._

John didn't tune back into his surroundings until Jennifer announced she had to go and “powder her nose.” As soon as she left John took the opportunity to check his phone. Of course, there were texts from Sherlock waiting for him.

_Where are you? - SH_

_Come home. - SH_

John laughed. Of course Sherlock wouldn’t remember he was on a date. Meaningless information he chose to delete, or something as equally ridiculous.

_I_ _’_ _m on a date, Sherlock. - JW_

Sherlock’s response made John’s heart stop.

_How do you turn off the smoke alarm? It keeps beeping. - SH_

John’s next move didn’t need a second thought. He leapt from his chair and ran towards the exit. He couldn’t help but let a hundred scenarios running through his head. Has an experiment finally gone wrong? Was Sherlock smoking again? Did he accidentally leave the stove on? Was the whole flat burnt to the ground? Was he hurt? John told the waiter to apologies for his date and tell her there was a medical emergency and he had to go to surgery. He prayed she didn’t remember he worked in the local clinic, not a hospital.

Every damn taxi this side of the Thames seemed to be taken. After the fifth cab drove by John decided to run back to Baker Street. It would be quicker than waiting about and battling the traffic. John Watson had never run so fast in his entire life. And he’d run from enemy gunfire in Afghanistan.

Thankfully there were no fire engines or smoke billowing out of 221b. John didn’t care if Sherlock was being a drama queen just to get him to come back. As long as Sherlock was okay, nothing else mattered.

“Sherlock? _Sherlock_!” John called as he ran up to his flat. Thankfully the sight that welcomed him wasn’t one of charred furniture and still-burning fires, but one of Sherlock standing in the kitchen looking quite perplexed. John grabbed the broom and hit the button to turn off the bloody wailing smoke alarm. He walked over to his flat mate to observe the smoking hunk of…something.

“Umm…Sherlock, what were you doing?” he asked the detective. “Is that a chicken? You know they’ve already been killed once so there’s no need to do it again.”

Wait…was Sherlock _cooking dinner?_

“Were you cooking din- ” John started.

“Don’t be stupid, John.” Sherlock cut in. “It’s simply an experiment that’s had unexpected results. I was testing the effect of heat on rotting flesh. I promised I wouldn’t put any body parts in the oven again so I decided a rotting chicken would be the next best thing.”

John shuddered. He would never forget the Great Roasted Phalanges Experiment of 2013.  Sherlock was warned that if John ever found a fingernail in his dinner again he would confiscate his microscope for a week and warn Molly against giving him any more “specimens” to experiment on.

Upon further investigation John noticed something that looked suspiciously like charred stuffing.

“Exactly how many rotting corpses have breadcrumbs and onions stuffed in their orifices?” he asked innocently. Sherlock simply looked at John and walked to the sofa. John chuckled to himself and decided to leave it be. But he was now oh-so-curious.

 _What on Earth is Sherlock doing cooking? And a whole chicken at that. Sherlock can barely finish half a sandwich, let alone-_ John’s train of thought was cut short by a moment of sudden clarity.

“Were you cooking us dinner, Sherlock?” he asked his friend. 

Sherlock grimaced. “Although I chose not to store useless data regarding social graces and holidays, I do understand today is a…special day. I’ve realised over time that I don’t show you as much appreciation as I should, especially considering the…affection you appear to have towards me. In the event that our circumstances change in the future -”

_Oh, shit. You_ _’_ _ve done it now, Watson. One last supper together before he leaves. Why did you have to do this?_

John thought to himself as he felt the unwelcome sting of tears in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Sherlock.

“- I don’t want it said that I didn’t show the same care and devotion to you. I should have told you this a long time ago and I’m sorry it has taken so long for me to realise how essential you are to my existence” Sherlock finished.

_What, what? What did he just say?_

Before John had a chance to reply to Sherlock’s sudden declaration, Greg Lestrade burst into their living room.

“Case. Need help. He got away. Can’t find him. Will you come?” he asked, clearly out of breath 

With no more than a sideways glance from Sherlock both men grabbed their coats and followed Lestrade down the stairs. John would follow Sherlock to the end of the world and back, regardless of the circumstances. As many times as Sherlock needed him. Because John needed Sherlock like air. And, for the first time in many years, John began to think the feeling just might be mutual.

 

***

 

“John! John! Oh God.” 

Much like Sherlock’s attempt at cooking this has not gone to plan. The burly murderer was much more nimble and quick on his feet than expected. Sherlock and John had managed to corner him in a dead end alleyway while Greg followed closely. What Sherlock could not foresee was John lying on the ground and not moving. The foolish ex-soldier had a quick trigger finger but the criminal was faster. Sherlock managed to knock the brute unconscious with a swift blow to the head but only one thing was on his mind. Once Greg had the man in hand Sherlock ran to John’s side and fell to his knees. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to have a quite night in at Baker Street. John was supposed to be his tonight, not shot.

Sherlock quickly checked for John’s pulse and his own eventually slowed when he felt his friends steady heartbeat against his fingers. John was beginning to mutter as he came to and was about to lift his hand to check the deep cut on his cheek but Sherlock took it into his own.

“Lie still, John. Don’t move. Do you know how I am? Are you hurt badly? For God’s sake tell me you’re all right” Sherlock pleaded.

His flat mate gave him a weak smile. “You are Sherlock Holmes and no, I’m all right. Just a mild concussion and I think I’ve got shot in the arm. Just a flesh wound. I’ve had worse.”

Perhaps it was shock, fear or a mixture of both but Sherlock found himself cupping John’s face in his hand. He brushed his thumb across John’s cheek and pressed his forehead to John’s. Let out a shaky breath. “Don’t you do this to me ever again, John Watson. You’re not allowed to leave me. Please stay with me. I need you. I always have and always will” he whispered. To be honest he didn’t care who was privy to this private moment. John needed to know.

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I will stay as long as you want me, Sherlock. Don’t ever doubt that” John replied.

Greg awkwardly coughed behind the pair. “Do you need me to call an ambulance, John?”

“I want to go home. I’m a doctor. I’ll be fine” John told the DI. He had never felt better before in his life.

“Alright then. I’ll come by tomorrow for your statements. I’ll…leave you boys to it” Greg said with a smile. It was about time these two copped on. He made a mental note to collect his winnings from the Yard betting pool. Greg knew John and Sherlock would get there eventually but he would’ve given them a nudge in the right direction if they didn’t get a move on by the end of the month. They’ve both been dancing around it for far too long.

 

***

 

Thankfully the taxi ride back to 221b was a short one. Both Sherlock and his blogger were high on the blissful post-case adrenaline rush and were giddy with excitement. John didn’t know if Sherlock realised he was still holding his hand but he didn’t care. His long, slender fingers fit between his short one perfectly. It felt like it belonged there. 

For once is was Sherlock tending to John in their bathroom and as much as he protested John had to get stitches on the side of his face. His hands were too shaky to do it himself so, against his better judgment, he instructed Sherlock through the process. Sherlock’s large hands were surprisingly nimble and he was rather good at suturing.

“You should have gone to hospital, John. This is going to scar” Sherlock muttered as he tied off the stitch.

John gave his friend a warm smile. “What’s another one to add to the list, eh? It’ll make me look more distinguished.”

Sherlock laughed and put a small bandage over the wound. John’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt Sherlock place a tender kiss over it.

“You’ve always looked distinguished, John. Even battered and bruised you’re the most handsome man I know” he whispered against John’s ear.

John felt a shudder rock through his body. “What’s brought all this on, Sherlock? We didn’t have a chance to finish our…conversation earlier.”

“Ah, yes, Lestrade made a rather poorly timed entrance. John, today I realised I don’t want you having dinner with anyone else but me.”

John slowly nodded. “Alright. Go on.”

Sherlock sighed. “Despite what others think, I care very much for you. I thought if I could replicate the experience you have with other women then you wouldn’t want to spend time with them.”

The doctor was stunned. This was either the most affectionate or insanely possessive thing anyone has ever said to him.

“And although I do realise I can’t give you everything you deserve, I’m headstrong, jealous, and selfish enough to do what I can to keep you in my life. Because I need you like fire needs oxygen, like the world needs gravity, like-”

If this didn’t turn out the way he wanted John would simply blame his concussion.

He pulled Sherlock’s face towards his and stopped just before their lips met. “I’m going to do something, Sherlock, and I need you to tell me to stop if you don’t like it, alright?”

Sherlock simply nodded in silence. His eyes were dark with desire and pulse racing beneath his skin. John ran his thumb across Sherlock’s lips before gently pressing them against his own. It was a soft, chaste kiss. John could feel Sherlock’s lips moving against his own and it was the most electrifying thing he had ever felt. John slowly pulled back and looked straight into Sherlock’s eyes.

“You don’t have to compete against other women, Sherlock. They’re the ones competing against you. I would gladly cast aside any offer from any woman on this planet if you were the one I could call my own. You give me more than anyone ever has and no-one can possibly measure up to you.” 

“I think I’ve ruined you, John Watson” Sherlock laughed. He pulled John into his arms and breathed in the sweet, musky scent that was all John. “I want to ruin you for the rest of my life.”

“I will gladly let you as long as you live a long life” John whispered. “Because I intend to and I want you in it until the day I die.”

“That’s a lot of Valentine’s Days, John. I promise next year won’t be like this. I’ll make sure we have a proper date.”

John pulled back and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, something he’d wanted to do since the day they met. “This has been the best Valentine’s date I’ve ever had. As long as you’re here, I don’t care what happens next year.”

 ***

The following year Sherlock and John spent February 14 breaking into a murderer’s basement to save two young children. The year after that they spent Valentine’s Day at home in 221b watching crap telly. And the year after that they were once again interrupted by Greg Lestrade, but it was to listen to him give his best man’s speech at their wedding.


End file.
